


Let's Start This Night Out Right

by ohdearsansa



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: AU, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-20 16:42:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1517768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohdearsansa/pseuds/ohdearsansa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon, Sansa finds out, is a cuddly drunk.<br/>Not that she minds, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Start This Night Out Right

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my very first time posting fanfic anywhere, but it seemed like a good place to start, especially since the Jon/Sansa stories are quite abundant here on AO3. I fell in love with Jon/Sansa when I first started getting into ASoIaF and it's been a wonderful ride. Everyone is so very good at writing, and I had wanted to make something, and this little AU came in mind. I've not decided yet if it will be a part of a bigger thing, so for now, it's just this little piece o' work. (: I hope you enjoy, and thanks for reading! (:  
> (I apologize ahead of time for the mistakes. I haven't had anyone read over it because I really wanted to post it!)

Sansa can count on one _hand_ the number of times she has seen Jon Snow drunk; hell, make that one _finger_. It wasn't as though Jon didn't drink, because Sansa could remember in great detail the day of Robb's twenty-first birthday, or more accurately, the day _after_. Jon, Robb, and Theon had all stumbled into the Stark's household at around seven A.M., wincing at their own clumsy footsteps and begging Sansa to make them some pancakes or anything, but to stay _quiet_. She had crossed her arms over her chest until Jon nudged Robb and Robb muttered something under his breath before sighing and adding 'please' to their requests.

Sansa had watched them as she stirred the chocolate-chip batter; Theon was sitting with his arms over his head, trying in vain to fall back asleep to escape reality for just a few more moments, while Robb was staring at the hallway where their parent's rooms were stationed, begging them to stay asleep until they left, and Jon, well, Sansa couldn't be one hundred precent sure, but she _thought_ that Jon was staring at her. Thinking back on it, she realizes that Jon had watched her the whole time she was cooking, his eyes slightly glazed and it was only after Robb threw him a smirk and a lifted eyebrow that Jon's cheeks pinked the slightest bit and he stopped. Sansa had thought little of it because, well, she's four years younger than Jon and Robb's uber protective of her and why would someone like Jon ever have a crush on someone like _her_?

Now, though, Jon is well and truly drunk and since Sansa is twenty, she's (mostly) sober and she's amazed. Jon's not the most emotional person around, but if she had met him tonight she'd never know that. He has a wider grin on his face that's she's probably seen six or so times, and his face is flushed and his wild black curls are especially rampant tonight. But the most surprising thing is the arm Jon has lodged around her waist. Sansas' pretty sure her face is about as flushed as Jon's, because they've never been as close as he was to Robb or even Arya, and their physical contact is mostly limited to awkward, five second hugs; but Sansa can't quite find it in her to care. It may be the fact that's she's slightly buzzed, but she could swear that where he's touching her is extremely warm and she fights the instict to rest her head on his shoulder. She's succeeded so far, but then Jon is tugging her somehow _closer_ and now they're facing face-to-face and Sansa is almost positive now that her face is a tomato, but Jon grins a boyish, happy grin at her and something inside Sansa wells up and she smiles back.

Jon's grin gets _larger_ , if that's possible, and he shouts something over the loud, thumping base, but Sansa only catches the last few words.

"-with me?"

"What did you say?" She yells back, sliding in closer so he can reach her ear easier. (That's what she tells herself, anyway.) 

This time, Jon's hot breath is right in her ear and she can feel the slightest tremor down her spine.

"Do you wanna go somewhere with me?"

Sansa can't answer immediately because her mouth has dropped open in shock and she leans back to look at Jon's face to make sure he's being serious and not just teasing her. He looks serious, but how serious can one be when they're drunk? But Jon seems to think of something else, and the next words she hears make her want to laugh.

"No, no! Not like, not like- _that_!" He stutters, cheeks getting redder. "I just meant that we could go and  _talk_ or, or _something_ , where it's a bit...  _quieter_."

A part of Sansa is disappointed because Jon is well,  _Jon_ , and he's very attractive even though he can wear pants tighter than hers sometimes, but the larger part is relieved because even though she's had a little crush on him for awhile, she doesn't think she's  _quite_ ready for the next step in their non-relationship. 

"Yes, that does sound nice, actually." She responds, deciding the take the initiative this time and grabs Jon's hand, leading him through the mass of sweaty bodies until she finds the door that leads to a little porch.

She closes the door behind them and turns back to Jon, her confidence from before mysteriously vanishing. It's now been roughly an hour since Sansa has seen Jon with a drink in his hand, and he looks more stable than before. He hesitates a full second before drawing his eyebrows together and reaching out for the hand that had been in his own until now. She wants to laugh at the pout on his full lips, but Sansa can't help but feel the same sensation of loss from the lack of his touch. The blush returns full force, but Sansa gladly tangles their fingers together. Jon takes it a step further and inches closer yet again, snaking his remaining arm back around her waits and this time Sansa has no qualms about resting her head on Jon's broad flannel covered shoulder.

Sansa tries in vain to not take a deep sniff and try and catch his cologne, and she's supremely glad she's failed because he smells simply  _heavenly,_  smoke and sweat smell from the party aside.She's lucky that Jon doesn't notice it this time, but she's pretty confident that if he wasn't half-drunk he'd take notice. Then again, maybe not, because Jon is busy sniffing  _her_. Wait, no, not  _sniffing_ more like,  _mumbling_ into her hair. 

"I've wanted to do this for a  _long_ time," he says into her hair, and Sansa's mind goes blank.

She tightens her grip on his hand and is relieved when he does the same, albeit with slower reflexes, but that's from the drinks, she's sure of it.

"You've wanted to-" here, she makes a vague notion to their bodies which are closer still pressed into each other, "with _me_?" Sansa can't fathom it.  _She's_ the one who's had a crush on Jon longer than she's cared to admit.

A rush of air blows against Sansa's head and she realizes that he's  _snorted_ at her.

"O'  _course_ I wanted to. But, you never seemed interested in me, and I wasn't goin' to just _assume_ that you wanted me to." Jon says, squeezing her waist and tugging her ever closer.

The night when Jon and Robb and Theon had come home hungover creeps back in her mind- how Jon had spent the whole time watching her, cheeks flushed and-

"Oh!"  _Now_ she believes him.

Jon is only a head or so taller than Sansa, but since she's in heels that make them roughly the same height, she has no problem pulling him in till their foreheads are touching. His warm breath has the slightest tinge of whiskey on it and his pupils are wide; but it's his arms that tell her that she's done the right thing. Both of them now rest loosely around her waist, flexing every now and then, and Sansa takes one hand off his stubbly cheek to tangle it in his hair and Jon raises an eyebrow and Sansa gives the slightest nod and then-

They're kissing like wildfire and Sansa swears it's one of the best kisses she's gotten since, well, since  _ever_. 

* * *

 

She and Jon had stayed out on that back porch for what seemed like hours but in actuality had only been _half_ an hour. Half an hour well spent, if Sansa did say so herself. 

When they pulled apart, that pouty look had been back in full force on Jon's face and Sansa couldn't help but give him a light kiss before stepping back as far as Jon's arms would allow her to. She could feel a gigantic grin forming on her face, and Jons' face mirrored her own.

"That was... something." She says, resuming her earlier position with her head on his shoulder.

"Wasn't it?" Jon chuckles before his grin turns wicked. "When can we do it again?"

Sansa playfully slaps his shoulder, cheeks aflame, before giving a shrug.

"Does tomorrow night work for you?" she asks, pulling her phone out from her back pocket.

Jon catches her drift and fumble for his own phone, deep in his jeans' pocket. Sansa feels a rush of giddiness at the prospect of kissing Jon again ( _tomorrow!)_ , and hurriedly types her number into Jon's cracked iPhone, giving her own immaculate one to him. It's now sometime after two o'clock in the morning, and Sansa can feel the first tendrils of tiredness reach her. She knows she has to leave soon, but she can't bring herself to go without one more kiss, which quickly turns into two, and then a third, more longer one. When she pulls back for the last time, Jon's eyes are shining with lust and maybe something more, and Sansa laughs and untangles herself from his warm arms and makes her way out to her car.

She squeals to herself once the doors are closed, and feels her phone vibrate from a text. Sansa sees Jon's name flash on her screen, and hastily types her code in to read it.

_can't wait to see you again 2morrow. i'll be thinking of you. -Jon_

Sansa just blushes and types a goodnight message. Maybe a drunk Jon isn't as _cautious_ as sober Jon, but Sansa  _knows_  that a sober Jon will be ten times the kisser.

And she can't  _wait_  to find out if she's right.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again for reading! Comments and critiques are greatly appreciated (and needed)!


End file.
